


(Not) Pretty

by fmljustlex



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tags Are Hard, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmljustlex/pseuds/fmljustlex
Summary: The other boy heaves a sigh. “Clay needs someone to babysit Justin.”“Babysit?”“Yeah. Through the detox.”“Oh.”“Yeah,” Zach nods. “Sheri and Tony did it last time but they can’t miss anymore school, so he asked me. But, I’m already your babysitter so he’s gonna have to deal with it himself.”Alex punches his arm. “Fuck you. Clay doesn’t have a lot of patience for Justin,” he points out.“No,” Zach agrees. “They’re definitely gonna kill each other.”“I could do it.”~~~Based on a request. There will be a part two, based on a different request, posted eventually.





	(Not) Pretty

Alex didn’t realise just how bad Justin was doing until he’d almost watched him die. He doesn’t really know why it surprises him that he isn’t doing so great the next day, either.

When Zach comes to pick him up, he keeps glancing at him until Alex asks, “What is it, Zach?”

The other boy heaves a sigh. “Clay needs someone to babysit Justin.”

“Babysit?”

“Yeah. Through the detox.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Zach nods. “Sheri and Tony did it last time but they can’t miss anymore school, so he asked me. But, I’m already your babysitter so he’s gonna have to deal with it himself.”

Alex punches his arm. “Fuck you. Clay doesn’t have a lot of patience for Justin,” he points out.

“No,” Zach agrees. “They’re definitely gonna kill each other.”

“I could do it.”

Zach glances at him. “What?”

“I’ll babysit him. I mean, I have a good excuse for taking a day off. My parents won’t care this time either.”

They stop at a red light, and Zach turns to look at him. “You want to babysit Justin?” Alex shrugs. “Justin.”

“Yeah, Zach, I want a day off and I might as well spend it babysitting Justin. Why not?”

Zach stares at him for another minute. Then he shakes his head, turns back to the road as the light turns green. “Why not.”

He turns left, in the direction that’ll take them away from school and towards Clay’s. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he’d made the offer. He thinks he just really doesn’t want to be in school right now, but now he’s thinking that maybe his parents will be pissed again and he’s leaving Jessica and maybe he should ask Zach to turn around and just —

“What actually happened with him yesterday?”

“He choked.”

“On his puke?” Alex nods. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Yeah well I thought rather watch him throw up than watch him die.”

“Yeah, I know, of course,” Zach nods. “It could’ve been bad if you weren’t there.”

“It was bad.”

“You know what I mean.” Alex doesn’t reply. He does know, and he doesn’t want to think about it. He was there, and that was bad enough. He doesn’t care how disgusting or terrifying it was, because if he hadn’t been there, he knows what would have happened. Just the prospect of it is more terrifying than witnessing what he had.

They’re silent the rest of the way to Clay’s house and Alex wonders why he volunteered himself. He does want the day off, he supposes, doesn’t want to go in and face everyone that keeps looking at him—more than they already had been, that is. But, still, part of him thinks that should be better than spending the day with Justin. Isn’t that supposed to be worse?

Apparently not.

Zach asks him again when he pulls to a stop, “Are you sure?”

Alex just nods. Zach sighs but gets out of the car and runs around to open Alex’s door, who’s already done it himself,  _thanks very much_. “I can open a door, Zach.”

“Yeah but where’s the fun in that?” He’s much too cheerful. Alex rolls his eyes and wobbles to the door, where Clay is already standing. Alex had texted him on the way over, and it had been clear even then how relieved he was.

It’s clearer, now, a look of pure relief on his face as he lets them in and leads them up to his room. To Justin.

Alex’s heart is beating a little fast now. He remembers this, taking these same steps yesterday, planning on finding Clay and instead finding Justin. Dying.

_But he isn’t dead_ , Alex reminds himself.  _You saved him. He’s okay._

Part of Alex wonders if that’s why he’s here. The part of him that doesn’t quite believe that. Only remembers Justin lying there, Justin with the needle still in his arm, Justin choking, not moving. Alex can’t move him. He can’t move him, can’t do anything, is too weak, useless, and Justin’s going to die and it’ll be his fault. Always his fault.

Then they’re in Clay’s room and Alex doesn’t want to be here, can’t be here, and there’s Justin. Curled up pathetically on Clay’s sofa, eyes closed and shivering and he smells and he’s alive. Alex gives an inward sigh of relief.

“Is he sleeping?” Zach asks dubiously.

Clay shrugs and nudges what must be Justin’s legs with his foot. “Justin.”

Justin makes a noise between a whine and a groan. Alex wants to smile, because it’s familiar. He recognizes that sound and relates it distinctly with Justin. He doesn’t know why that makes him feel better.

Zach raises a brow and hesitantly says, “Hey, dude. You okay?”

Justin’s eyes flutter open and take in all of them standing there. Looking at him. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, as if it’ll hide him, and gives a wry smile. “Never better.”

It comes out hoarse and his lips pinch tightly together afterwards. Alex watches him swallow and winces. He’s trying not to vomit.

“Great,” Clay says. “Well, I’m going to school. Alex is going to stay with you.”

Justin’s eyes land on him. Alex shifts uncomfortably but gives him a smile that’s more of a sympathetic look than anything. Justin seems to soften slightly. He gives a small nod. “Okay.”

Clay hands Alex a sheet of paper and says, “This is everything you need to know. Sheri simplified it pretty well so, follow that, don’t give in to him, and that’s it.”

Zach turns to Justin. “I only couldn’t babysit you to babysit him and now you’re both abandoning me to babysit each other, and I have to go to school,” Zach sighs. Alex knocks him with his cane.

“Fuck you,” he and Justin say at the same time.

Zach only grins and shakes his head. “Honestly just sad I’m not gonna be here to see this. Don’t kill each other.”

Clay adds, “Have fun.” Then they’re gone.

Alex looks at the sheet of paper in his hand. It’s simple enough. He looks back up to Justin. “So,” he says.

Justin parts his lips to respond and instead turns suddenly very white, and then he’s throwing up into the bin. Alex grimaces. He’s seen tons of people sick before, Justin included, and Alex isn’t talking about yesterday. It doesn’t really bother him, worse has come out of his own body. It pains him to watch more than anything. To know that they’re hurting. It also smells really bad.

Immediately after Justin’s done, he says, “Sorry.”

“For throwing up?”

Justin shrugs, pulls the blanket tighter. “That you have to be here.”

“Well. I offered.” Justin looks at him. “School kinda sucks, so.” It does, but Alex thinks it’s more than that. Justin merely accepts it with a nod.

It’s just silence, then, so Alex settles himself into Clay’s desk chair again. Justin’s still tugging at the blanket. He says, suddenly, “I’m so fucking hungry.”

Alex blinks at him. “Do you want me to…get you something?”

“No point. Can’t keep it down. Only supposed to drink that shit.”

He nods at a bottle full of liquid that looks very unappetizing. Alex assumes it’s that on Sheri’s notes. “You should probably like, take some then. You know. Space it out so you don’t have to drink a lot at once.”

Justin doesn’t seem to agree with this, that that could possibly be any better, but he reaches out with a shaking hand and takes the bottle anyway. He pulls a face as he swallows it and immediately picks up a bottle of what looks like orange juice. Alex raises a brow.

“What happened?” Alex can’t help asking. Justin just looks at him. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

Justin holds eye contact. “Why did you?”

Alex nods. He supposes that’s fair. He doesn’t want to answer, so he’s clearly in no position to push Justin to. Maybe they don’t have to talk about that.

Then, Justin ruins it. “I blew all my money. I’d been trying to stay in motels and everything and it wasn’t so bad, you know? But everything was so bad. I had….shit like weed wasn’t fixing it. I didn’t have enough money. But I needed something to fix it.”

His voice is a mixture of a bunch of things Alex doesn’t like. It’s something he’s only ever heard a few times. The quiet sadness, the self hatred, the pleading. That they’ll understand— _please just try to understand_. Alex hates it. Hates that even people like Justin Foley ever sound like that. Especially Justin Foley. Beautiful Justin, with the bright smile and sexy voice and blue green eyes who laughed at Alex’s jokes and could make Alex laugh at his. He hates that seeing Justin like this still makes him feel a little less pathetic.

Justin doesn’t look at you either, when he talks like this. He averts his gaze to anything else. His eyes are currently trained on the blanket, which he’s picking at with his fingers. Alex kind of wants to hold them.

“Sorry,” Justin says quietly, laughing. It’s not real. “My problems are fucking stupid compared to yours.”

Alex’s lips quirk. “I don’t think that’s how that game works. You’re supposed to let me argue my own patheticness and then tell me I win. Not just do it for me. That kinda ruins it.”

Justin finally looks up at him again, and Alex is relieved to see him smiling. It drops quickly as his face pales again, and his gaze leaves as he shoves his face in the bin. Alex listens to him heave and feels another rush of sympathy.

“Fuck,” Justin says, after.

Alex tilts his head. “What’s it feel like?”

“Disgusting,” Justin says immediately. “Hurts. Stomach pains, headache.”

Alex understands that. He really gets it. He doesn’t let himself think before standing up and nudging Justin with his cane. Justin looks at him curiously. “Get up a second.”

Justin does so, slowly, sitting in the middle of the couch. Alex settles himself into the right side and places Justin’s pillow on his lap. Justin blinks at him and Alex raises a brow. “I can stay on the chair if you want.”

At that, Justin shakes his head. It makes him turn a little green. “No! I mean—this is, uh, this is good. Or, uh, okay.” Alex resists the urge to laugh. He knows it would make Justin pout at him. Justin hesitantly lies down, but he visibly relaxes once his head is back on the pillow.

Alex waits until he’s settled a little before brushing a careful hand through his hair. Justin stares up at him, but doesn’t say or do anything to stop him. So Alex does it again, fingers carding through the dark strands, and again, until Justin is leaning into his touch and his eyes have drifted shut. Alex smirks as he curls towards him, head tilted towards his stomach.

He massages his fingers against Justin’s scalp and Justin actually lets out a little sigh. If he didn’t think Justin resembled a puppy before he definitely does now.

Justin’s eyes flutter open again just to look up at him. Alex smiles and keeps pushing his hand through his hair, letting his thumb brush over his temple. “Why are you doing this?” Justin asks quietly.

“My mom used to do it for me. When I got sick as a kid. I got a lot of headaches……after, and I always wanted to ask her but it felt stupid.”

Justin gives him a sympathetic look but shakes his head. “No, I mean—why are you taking care of me?”

It sounds so vulnerable, the way he says it. Shy and honestly questioning. Alex doesn’t really know how to answer. He doesn’t know the answer.

“Someone has to.” Justin turns his gaze away and nods. Alex’s heart gives a weird pang. “And I think I had to see you,” he adds hesitantly. Justin looks back at him. “After yesterday. It was like I knew you were okay but this part of me wouldn’t listen and it—I had to see you. To prove it.”

Alex is sure he imagines how Justin’s eyes glisten. Before he can question it, Justin turns right over and buries his face in Alex’s stomach. Not knowing what to say, either, but trying to communicate it anyway. Alex keeps stroking his hair in response.

“I’m sorry.” Justin’s words are muffled against Alex’s shirt. It feels weird—makes this vibration against his stomach. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know.” He doesn’t add any reassurances. Doesn’t say that it’s okay, because it isn’t. But Alex understands. Or he doesn’t, fully, just knows at one point he did and he still gets it now, even if it’s not for the same reasons. The want for everything to just stop. He went through the apologies like this too, not remembering what he was sorry for. “I don’t know why I did it.”

Justin doesn’t move, just makes a muffled, “Huh?”

“I can’t remember it. I can’t remember like a month before. I don’t know why I did this to myself.”

Justin twists onto his back to look up at him, frowning. Alex is still petting his hair. He thinks it might have become more of a comfort for him than Justin. “That’s a good thing, right? You don’t still wanna do it.” Alex keeps his gaze on the other’s hair, but he can still see the way his face drops. “Alex.”

Alex shakes his head. “I’m not going to do anything. Probably couldn’t anyway. I couldn’t even do it the first time. How would I do it now when I can’t do anything? I’m fucking useless.” He doesn’t mean to be so self-pitying. Really, he doesn’t. He did it to himself, and he did it wrong, and now he has to live with it when he didn’t want to live at all.

“We both know that’s not true,” Justin says seriously. Alex forces himself to look at him. He still looks like shit, eyes red, hair a mess, lips dry and chapped. But his eyes are focused and honest and Alex feels a little better.

They’re silent for a bit, then Alex smiles. “Clay and Tony said you were the whiny one. Yet, here we are.”

Justin smiles, too, and scoffs. “You think you’re being whiny? No, I’m definitely the whiny one. I’m hungry and I still have a headache, you’re slipping up.”

“See, now you’re playing the game right.”

Alex massages his head again, though. Justin seems to appreciate it, leaning into the touch and letting his eyes close. “You should take more of….that,” Alex tells him after a while.

Justin groans. “It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, that sucks.”

“I’m not taking it.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m just gonna throw it back up.”

“Then you’ll get to taste it twice.” Alex reaches over him to get it and twists it open, nose wrinkling at the smell. “Here. Drink.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Justin glares at him but sits up and takes a few careful drinks, face scrunched up the entire time. Alex bites back a smile and sets it back on the shelves for him, passing him the possibly-orange-juice bottle. Justin takes a big gulp of this and Alex does smile. He hands it back to Alex too and says, “How does it get worse?”

Alex shrugs and Justin makes a loud, frustrated sound. “I’m so fucking tired. Why is it so fucking cold?”

“I get the whiny thing now,” Alex mutters, but he’s smiling. Justin only grumbles in response. He is shivering though, quite badly, and Alex’s brow creases. “Do you want another blanket or something?”

“There’s no more spares in here.” Alex opens his mouth and Justin adds, “And there’s no fucking way I’m using Jensen’s.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause they’re Jensen’s.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Justin curls his blankets around him and keeps shivering. Alex doesn’t know the side effects of a detox, but he’s realizing he’s going to find out a few today. He thinks the whining might just be Justin, though.

“Okay, get up,” Alex taps him.

Justin groans. “Why?” Before Alex has to answer though he drags himself off the couch. Well, he slides off, sitting on the floor with his blankets wrapped tightly around him.

Alex lifts the pillow from his lap, putting it back in its place against the arm of the couch, and manages to lift his legs up onto the cushions. He lies on his back, head on the pillow, pressing as far into the couch as he can. Then he pats the space next to him.

Justin stares at him. “Seriously?”

“You’re cold. I’m tired.”

“We’re not gonna fit.”

Alex is weirdly pleased that’s Justin’s concern, rather than actually cuddling with another dude. He cocks a brow and lets a bit of sarcasm seep into his voice. “Well considering you refused his blankets I didn’t think you’d want to use Clay’s bed. If you want, I can just go back to the chair.”

Justin doesn’t even bother responding—just crawls back onto the couch. He curls himself against Alex’s side and settles his blankets over them both, arm reaching across Alex’s chest. He rests his head on Alex’s shoulder and Alex wraps his arm around him carefully. Then Justin whispers a, “Thanks,” and he smiles.

They’ve done this before. Justin has always been a not-so-secretly cuddly person. Much the same, Alex has always teased him about it, purely for the reactions it enticed. A roll of the eyes, punch to the arm, that one smile, and occasionally even a blush. All accompanied by, “Shut up, Standall.” Truth is, Alex finds it pretty adorable. Justin seeking him out for it had become a thing, because despite the teasing Alex indulged him. He always thought if it meant it wasn’t Bryce’s arms he was falling into, Alex would gladly keep him.

It feels the same. Even with everything that’s changed, this just feels like it used to. Aside from Justin’s shivering, and the fact that he stinks.

“This is kinda weird now huh.” It’s not even spoken as a question. More like a casual observation, made in a light tone that doesn’t even sound forced.

Alex huffs a laugh. “It wasn’t always weird?”

Justin shrugs, laughs a little along with him. “I don’t know. It probably was.” He pauses for a moment. “It’s nice, though.”

The weird thing is that it is nice, but Alex isn’t going to say that. “Yeah, it’s really nice being surrounded in your sweat and the vomit smell.”

“Fuck you, Standall,” Justin grumbles and Alex laughs. Justin curls his hand atop Alex’s chest and shivers again. It’s violent, his knee knocking painfully against Alex’s thigh and Alex hisses.

“Jesus, Justin.”

“Sorry,” Justin mumbles, tucking his socked feet between Alex’s legs. They’re still fucking freezing. “Cold.”

Alex rubs his hand up and down Justin’s back, trying to create some heat. Whether it works or not—he’s still shivering, anyway—Justin gives an appreciative hum. After a minute Alex tucks the blanket tighter around Justin instead and moves his hand back up to his hair. Justin pushes into it with a sigh and Alex rolls his eyes. Such a goddamn puppy.

His mind flits to yesterday again without his permission. The sight of Justin lying on Clay’s bed, immobile, then terrifyingly mobile in the jerks of his body, the shift from silence to that awful choking. The fear as Alex realised the uselessness of his own body. He can’t save him, he can’t save him, he was going to die and Alex  _couldn’t save him_.

He moves his hand back down to Justin’s back and holds tight. Justin brushes his cheek against Alex’s shoulder, looks up at him silently.

“You could have died,” Alex’s voice cracks on the last word, and he doesn’t say the rest. That he could have died, because Alex wasn’t able to save him. That Alex had been so close to failing, to having to watch him die. It would have been his fault.

Justin shifts back and up—and there isn’t really anywhere for him to go, they’re squeezing themselves onto a relatively small place—but he manages to settle his head on the pillow next to Alex’s. He raises a hand and, very softly, brushes his thumb over Alex’s hair where it hides his scar. “So could you.”

Alex sniffs and puts a lot of work into making sure his eyes don’t water. He’s not going to have a breakdown in front of Justin. “We’re both really fucked up, huh?” he laughs. It’s weak. There’s nothing funny about any of it.

Justin tucks his head into his neck and tucks his hand around his side this time. “We’re all fucked up,” he points out, and Alex can’t argue with that. He puts his hand back in Justin’s hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” Justin mumbles. “About yesterday. I didn’t—it had never gotten to that before.”

“Obviously. You would’ve been dead if it had.”

Justin tightens his fingers on Alex’s side. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. Then, quietly, “I don’t want to die.”

Alex looks at the top of his head. He would twist around and give him a proper hug if it didn’t require so much movement. He does, however, get both his arms around Justin enough to give him a squeeze. “Me either,” he whispers.

Justin shifts back up next to Alex and looks at him, Alex’s arms falling away. It’s an uncomfortable enough position to put his neck in, but Alex looks back. He moves his hand, brushes it through Justin’s hair once, lightly.

Justin’s breath hitches, then the door opens and he promptly rolls off the couch and vomits in the bucket.

“Jesus,” Matt Jensen says. He’s looking at Justin, his expression one of pity mixed with disgust. Alex sees care there, too, the parental kind that comes with seeing their child in distress. Alex finds it often now in the faces of his own parents. It’s strange, though, seeing it on the face of Clay’s father in regards to Justin Foley. He supposes if the man’s anything like his son, the kindness isn’t all that surprising. He’s also holding a plate of sandwiches and what seems to be biscuits and some other snacks Alex can’t quite see.

His eyes move to Alex as Justin curls himself into a pathetic ball around the bucket. Mr Jensen blinks at him and Alex blinks back, glancing at Justin and passing him the bottle of…still undetermined liquid. Justin groans but takes an obedient sip and washes it down with half the bottle of orange.

“Hey, Alex,” Mr Jensen smiles. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

Alex is in the middle of tugging the blanket off himself to drape it back over Justin, who abandoned it while rolling to the floor. Justin tucks it around his shivering shoulders with an appreciative smile. “Uh, yeah, I am. But school sucks more than usual right now and Clay was looking for a babysitter and I have a good excuse, so.”

Matt considers him for a moment, then looks at Justin on the floor. “I didn’t consider it being bad enough to require a full-time sitter.”

“Yeah, it’s—“ Alex is interrupted by Justin’s groan, “pretty bad,” he finishes lamely. Justin punctuates his point by retching again, but there’s not enough in his stomach. The small bit of liquid he’d downed comes back up, but then he can only hack dryly into the bucket. It’s disgusting, again, and it sounds painful. Looks it, too, in the shudders that wrack Justin’s body and the moisture that collects in the corner of his eyes.

Alex wants to sit down next to him but he can’t even do that. Or, he probably could, he just wouldn’t be able to get back up, and he doesn’t think Justin’s in the state to help him. He reaches a hand out instead, to rub his back, maybe, or just rest it on his shoulder, but then he isn’t sure if Justin would want that, so he stops. He fixes the blanket around him instead then draws his hand back into his lap.

“Well,” Matt says, “I thought you might want food, but maybe not. Alex, I’ll leave it here anyway, you can eat it.” He sets the plate down next to Justin’s weird drink.

“Oh, uhm,” Alex nods. “Thanks, Mr Jensen.”

Matt smiles. Justin groans. The man looks down at him, then back at Alex. “You want anything else? Want me to stay with him? You could still make most of your classes.”

Alex could, he supposes. Not that he particularly cares—he did come here as an excuse to get out of going to school. But he could just go home. Pass the instructions off to Mr Jensen and let him deal with his newly acquired house guest. It would be so easy. Alex should want it. Should give in instantly.

Justin looks up at him, and the corners of his mouth tilt down, his eyes boring into Alex with that same puppy-like gaze and Alex shakes his head. “I promised Clay I’d stay. I’m sure you have better stuff to do, I don’t. We’re okay.”

Alex sees Justin smile a little just before he starts heaving again. Matt winces. “I don’t know if ‘okay’ is the word I’d use.” Alex only shrugs. “What the hell made him want to do this to himself?”

Alex shrugs again. He’s wondered the same thing a few times. “Long story, I guess,” he murmurs.

Matt looks at him and seems to realise what he’s said. “Ah, kid, I’m sorry. I wasn’t—“

“It’s fine,” Alex waves him off. “I don’t care.” Then, realising that sounds a little rude, “I mean, I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, well, still,” Matt smiles apologetically. Alex doesn’t even notice Justin has moved until he feels something pressing against his legs and discovers it’s the boy’s side. He’s settled himself there in what Alex thinks is a weird and extremely puppy-like protective gesture. Alex brushes a hand through his hair in gratitude without thinking much about it. His head is resting opportunely against Alex’s knee.

He forgets Matt is there and startles when he speaks again. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it, but I’m here if you want anything.” He’s smiling at them in this weird, knowing sort of way so Alex gives him a weird, confused smile back as he walks out the door.

He picks the plate of food up and places it on his lap. There are sandwiches and biscuits and some kind of mini chocolate bars Alex can only assume are a middle-aged people thing. He picks up a sandwich and holds it out. “Wanna try?” he asks Justin.

Justin makes a noise of disgust. “What’s the point?”

“Uh, that you need to eat?”

“It won’t stay down.”

“It might.”

“It won’t, and it’ll definitely smell worse the second time you see it.”

Alex wrinkles his nose. He sighs. “At least come back up here. You look pathetic.”

Justin grumbles, but he pulls himself back onto the couch. He doesn’t even seem to ever make it to his feet, only dragging himself up far enough that he can get his butt on the cushion. He slumps into the couch and against Alex’s side, dropping his head onto his shoulder.

“You’re lucky I’m immune to vomit smell,” Alex mutters, taking a bite out of the sandwich himself. Justin hums, and cuddles further into him. Alex rolls his eyes. He should’ve accepted Matt’s offer.

At the thought, the door opens again and Matt peeks inside, pushing the door open fully when he sees the vomiting has stopped. He picks up the bucket then jerks back, holding it at arms left. He cups his free hand over his nose and says, “I’m gonna clean this out.”

Justin winces and Alex gives the man a grateful smile. Alex is quite used to the smell, but he can still easily tell the difference once it’s gone. He happily breathes in a few gulps of odourless air and Justin pokes his side. “Thought you were ‘mune to the smell.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it or deserve to be subjected to it,” Alex shrugs, and Justin whines at the jolt. Alex mumbles an apology and holds out another sandwich. This time, Justin takes a bite. Alex smiles slightly and scoffs. “I’m not feeding you, you can hold it yourself.”

Justin sighs, as if this is a momentous task, then tucks his hands petulantly under the blanket. “I’m only eating it if you feed it to me.”

Alex’s brows shoot towards his hairline. “Are you kidding me?” The door opens again and Matt leaves the bucket back in its place, giving them a small smile. It smells like disinfectant now instead. Alex hates it almost more than the vomit. They’re all hospital smells.

Justin nudges his side, and Alex glances over to see he’s looking up at him. “You okay?” Justin asks.

“Fine,” Alex nods, holding up the sandwich again. Justin takes a bite, letting out a pleased hum. “Baby,” Alex mutters.

“If I’m holding it, I’ll end up thinking about it making me throw up instead of eating it and then when I do throw up there’ll be nothing to come out and then it just hurts.”

Alex sighs. He knows that. Explicitly. “I wasn’t allowed to eat anything when I woke up, first. I mean they were feeding me through a tube and I had a drip and everything but whenever I threw up it was just this, weird liquid stuff. It tasted like shit.” It was also occasionally mixed with blood, but Alex decides to leave that part out. More than anything though he remembers the pain—cracking open his chest, tearing his throat, and his  _head_. His head throbbing, constant and unrelentless, unbearable with the slightest movement nevermind when he was emptying his stomach.

_’What the hell made him want to do this to himself?’_

Alex tries not to ask himself that every day.

“Sorry,” Justin says quietly. “I’m being a whiny bitch and you’ve been through worse.”

Alex tries not to smile. “Yeah, well, you were always a whiny bitch, so. I’m not surprised.” Justin lets out a startled laugh and Alex does smile, until Justin’s leaning out over the couch and coughing, dragging the bucket under his mouth just in time. Alex sighs, nose again wrinkling. At least he got a few minutes. At least it overpowers the disinfectant.

Justin’s on his left side, which makes it more difficult, but Alex manages to settle a hand on his back. That’s about all he can do with it, but it seems to soothe Justin a little, the muscles in his back relaxing slightly. When he stops and leans back into the couch, he catches Alex’s hand and brings it around his shoulder, pressing right up close to his side. Alex doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or stupidly fond.

Then Justin says, “Told you it wouldn’t stay down,” and maybe it’s mean but Alex laughs, this time. Justin huffs but just presses closer, and when Alex looks, he’s smiling.

Alex reserves not to force feed him anymore for the moment. He eats a couple sandwiches himself, then a biscuit, and then a few more because his mother isn’t here and won’t find out. He does force some more of the drink into Justin and calls on Matt to refill the bottle with the orange. (And to clean out the bucket again—with less disinfectant.)

Justin remains mopey and sweaty next to him, still tucked under his arm and otherwise okay. Then suddenly he’s arching away from the couch, from Alex, a pained gasp escaping him as he clutches at his stomach. He hisses out a, “Fuck,” and then slumps back, curling into himself and whimpering.

It tugs at something in Alex’s chest and he doesn’t think before working his hand under the blanket and under Justin’s shirt, pressing it flat against his stomach.

“What the fuck?” Justin jerks slightly then hisses in pain again.

“The heat helps,” Alex explains.

“Your hands are fucking freezing!”

“Give it a minute!”

For once, Justin decides to listen. He slumps back into Alex’s side with another whimper and Alex presses closer to him. I After a few moments, he relaxes a little, rests his head back on Alex’s shoulder. “Better?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Justin sighs, nuzzling into him as he tucks the blanket back over them both. “Thanks.”

Alex smiles and relaxes into the new warmth. Without thinking, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Justin’s hair.

Justin stiffens. Alex freezes. His mouth opens, closes again. Should he apologise? He feels like he should apologise. What’s he apologising for? What the hell was that? What the hell compelled him to do it?

Then Justin lets out a happy little sigh and nuzzles right into his neck, nudging Alex’s chin with his head. Alex huffs, suddenly realising exactly what he’s doing—exactly where his hand is. He’s about to remove it when Justin’s own comes to rest over it, through the material of his shirt. It seems to be a subconscious gesture. When Alex glances down, Justin’s eyes are half shut.

“You can go to sleep if you want to,” Alex permits.

“Won’t your arm fall asleep?”

“I can’t really feel anything anyway, so it’s fine.”

“That seems like it should make it worse.”

Alex snorts. “Just shut up and go to sleep. Even if my arm goes dead at least you’ll be quiet.”

Justin makes an offended noise, but even that’s tired. In a few moments, his breathing has evened out and he feels heavier against Alex’s side. Alex lifts a hand into his hair again, enjoying the feeling of the strands slipping through his fingers. He keeps his other hand pressed to Justin’s stomach, which is worryingly thin. Alex doesn’t know what else he was expecting—he’s seen Justin shirtless before, that’s all. With the abs and the tattoos and the biceps. Now Justin feels incredibly small in his arms.

Alex suddenly remembers the first day he saw him again. When he came to the school. He would say he hardly recognised him, but that would be a lie. He’d recognise Justin anywhere.

He doesn’t remember everything going to shit. Doesn’t remember Hannah dying. Doesn’t remember the tapes. Doesn’t remember Jessica and Justin breaking up. Doesn’t remember Justin leaving. Doesn’t remember himself breaking down.

He recognised Justin, of course, but it had been a shock. He’d looked like shit. He still kind of does. Alex doesn’t remember ever seeing Justin look like that. He’s seen him upset and hurting, he has, but never like this. He’d had mixed emotions about what Jessica said to him. He was caught between being elated Jessica hadn’t fallen back into his arms and a little angry that she’d been so harsh. Obviously Justin wasn’t okay. Despite everything, he didn’t deserve to be made feel worse.

Then he’d seen Bryce.

Then he’d collapsed.

Alex couldn’t help then, either. He’d wanted to. The part of him that couldn’t remember, the part of him that still saw Justin as his friend. But the rest of him—the part that had been updated, where the news was still fresh—was disgustingly pleased.

But even with that feeling, Alex wanted to help. Even though he wants to hate Justin, he can’t. There’s always the part of him that wants to know he’s okay, that wants him to be alright. That cares.

No matter how much he hates him, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop caring.

“Shush,” Justin says.

Alex raises a brow. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Sorry.”

Justin sighs, shifting his head to look up at him. He doesn’t say anything, just gazes at Alex questioningly. Alex sighs back. “You’re an asshole and I still can’t hate you.” Justin raises his brows. “You’re like a puppy.”

That earns a huff and a surprised, tired smile. Justin sits up straighter and rests his head on the back of the couch instead, looking over at him. Alex mimics him and Justin presses down over his hand to keep it in place. “You probably should. I’d deserve it.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s because I’m not really any better.”

“Bullshit,” Justin argues immediately, but it’s not angry. It comes out plain but firm. “You’re the best out of all of us.”

Alex’s lips part. Close again. They’re still just looking at each other. “What about Clay?”

“Clay does hate me. He wouldn’t have taken me in like you did.”

“What do you mean?” Alex’s brow furrows.

Realisation washes over Justin’s face. “Oh, you don’t remember.” He seems disappointed. Then he turns away, ducks his head, and Alex sees embarrassment. “I came to you, one night after the tapes. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stay at home. Zach and Jess wouldn’t answer my calls. I couldn’t bring myself to go to Bryce. So I came to you.”

He looks back up at Alex. “You let me stay, no questions asked. Then…that was the night I told Jess. She called me that she was with him and you took me straight there and—and after I told her, I thought I had nothing. She would never forgive me. Neither would Bryce, but I didn’t care. I didn’t deserve any forgiveness. I still don’t. I didn’t deserve a place to sleep. But you gave me one. You took me back with you.” He closes his eyes. “Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe that’s part of the reason.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “Part of what reason?”

“It was the night before you shot yourself,” Justin says hoarsely. “I’d seen you that morning. I’d been with you. And I didn’t—I couldn’t,” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know if I could have helped but I didn’t even know anything was wrong and I’m so sorry.”

A tear leaks from the corner of his right eye and Alex’s heart aches. He reaches up unthinkingly and brushes it away with the pad of his thumb. Justin purses his lips in an apologetic smile. “It wasn’t your fault,” Alex assures softly. “I made the choice. I did it to myself. No one knew to stop me. I don’t even know why I did it.”

Justin nods. Alex taps his shoulder and Justin leans back into him. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Maybe excessive whining is a symptom of detox.”

“Fuck you,” Justin scowls, then immediately winces. He curls into Alex with an actual whine and Alex brushes his fingers over his stomach. Justin presses closer in approval. “Fuck,” he sighs.

“That bad?”

“Remember your weird stomach things? I’m guessing it’s like that.”

Alex grimaces. That’s pretty bad. “I told you about my stomach thing?”

“No. It started happening again, after the tapes.”

Alex’s lips part in an ‘o’. That makes sense, he supposes. No one was able to tell him what they were, but they’ve always happened when he’s particularly distressed. He’s sure he must have been then. He’s wondered a few times why he hasn’t had any pains since. If maybe he fucked himself up past the point of his body caring. He can’t feel very much in half of his limbs. He doesn’t see why his stomach should be any different.

Justin shifts a little. Then a little more. Then he abruptly throws himself onto the floor and vomits again.

Alex winces. It’s really not pretty.

It’s not the last time it happens over the next few hours. Alex isn’t really sure when Justin is supposed to be drinking that stuff so he just forces sips into him periodically and hopes for the best. Matt comes to check on them a few times, cleaning the bucket and bringing more food. Alex eats and feeds bits and pieces to Justin, and he manages to keep a sandwich down for over an hour. He spends the majority of the time curled against Alex and whining about one thing or another. Alex offers comfort when he feels like it and scolding when it’s required. Thankfully, Justin nods off a few times and Alex gets a few moments of peace.

He understands why Clay didn’t want to stay and why Zach was reluctant. But Clay hates Justin, and Zach hasn’t been very close to him for a while. By the sounds of things, even the first time Alex hadn’t been able to push him away. He’s naturally caring, anyway, always cares too much about everything and he doesn’t suppose Justin Foley should be any different. Even if Alex should hate him. Alex isn’t always fond of doing what he’s expected to.

Alex must dose off accidentally, because the next thing he knows he’s waking up to voices. He hears the door open before he manages to open his eyes. When he does, he finds Zach and Clay both gaping at him.

“What?” Alex mumbles tiredly. “Close your mouths.”

Justin grumbles next to him and Alex huffs, then realises. He knocks Justin’s leg with his own thoughtlessly and Justin arcs away from him, clutching his stomach with a harsh, “ _Fuck._ ”

Alex winces. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Justin says breathlessly. Alex can’t help it. He snorts. Justin flicks a glare at him and Alex manages to settle a hand on his back again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound all that sincere, because really Alex is almost laughing, but he does mean it. Justin only groans before going to settle back against Alex’s side. He remembers and changes his mind at the last second, curling into a ball next to him instead. Then he changes his mind again and drops his head onto Alex’s shoulder anyway. “Okay, at least give me my arm back.” Justin grumbles but leans forward so Alex can retrieve his arm from behind him.

When he’s settled against Alex’s shoulder again Clay speaks up. “How the hell did you do that?”

Justin and Alex both look at him, but the question is meant for Alex. He raises a brow. “Do what?”

“He didn’t even argue,” Clay says incredulously. “You killed him and he just…cuddled you!”

Alex flaps his hand. “Justin’s naturally cuddly.”

“Fuck you,” Justin mumbles, but he doesn’t deny it. “Can I keep Alex?”

Clay blinks. “Seriously, what did you do?”

Alex repeats his previous gesture. “I don’t know. I was nice to him.”

Clay stares at them. Zach still hasn’t said a word, but he’s looking at them with a very concentrated expression. Alex meets his eyes and raises a brow. Zach mimics him. Clay looks at Justin. “You can’t, but Alex can keep you if you want. Gladly.”

“Yeah, taking him to the sheriff’s house would be a great idea,” Alex reminds them.

Justin huffs and lifts his head to look at him. “You can’t leave me with Jensen,” he whines. Alex snorts again. Justin pouts at him.

“You’ll be fine,” Alex assures him. “Clay’s nice.”

“To you, maybe,” Justin retorts.

Alex turns to Clay. “You can be nice to him, can’t you?”

Clay’s eyes practically fall out of his head. “You want me to be nice to  _Justin_? Don’t you hate him more than the rest of us?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “He’s suffering.”

“Good! Let him suffer!”

“Clay,” Alex says sternly. Justin curls into himself. Alex sets a hand on his arm. “I know Justin’s an asshole, but right now you’re acting like one. You brought him back.”

“For Jessica!”

Alex gives him a flat look. “Right.”

Zach butts in hesitantly. “Either way, he’s here now. And he’s one of us. The least we could do is help him out, right?”

“No one asked you,” Clay frowns. “He wouldn’t do this for us.”

“I think he would,” Alex argues. “And even if he wouldn’t, he’s the asshole. You’re the nice guy, Clay.”

Clay scowls for another moment before sighing. “I’ll be nice to him if he stops being impossible.”

Alex looks over at Justin. Justin doesn’t even hesitate before nodding. “Are you coming back, though?”

“Uhm,” Alex blinks. “I’ll probably have to go to school but I can come after.” Justin perks up, nodding. He even smiles, and Alex doesn’t think it’s weird when he smiles back.

“You ready?” Zach asks. Alex nods. It takes a minute for him to get a grip of his cane and pull himself to his feet, but they wait patiently and don’t comment. When Alex is finally up, he looks at Clay again.

Clay rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of him.”

Alex smiles cheerily. “I know.”

Justin still seems weary when he leaves, so Alex tells him he can send updates through Clay’s phone, with a ‘no arguments’ glance at Clay. Clay only gives a put-upon sigh, so Alex takes it as a win. When they make it to Zach’s car, Zach finally questions him.

“Seriously, what happened? I thought you did hate Justin. Is this about yesterday?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t hate him. He really is suffering. I guess I sympathise.”

Zach purses his lips, but he seems to be smiling slightly. He shakes his head. “You’re a good guy, Alex.”

Alex smiles. ”I don’t think so. I’m just as fucked up as he is.”


End file.
